


To London, With Love

by rayvanfox



Category: The Hour
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the letters freddie wrote to bel while traveling in the US.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To London, With Love

Moneypenny~

You agreed with me that I needed this time before I took off, that traveling would help me get my head in order. I know I was quite a mess when I left, and I know you understood that I had to deal with things on my own.

But, well, I’ve done that now. I’ve gone thousands of miles away, been to multiple cities, lost and found myself at least twice each, and here, on the arse end of the United States, in a run-down hotel in the run-down part of San Diego, after being in places where I have witnessed a way of being, a way of seeing, a set of politics, a volume of manifestos (ones that I feel as though I’ve deeply understood long before I was introduced to them), here of all places, now of all times, I’ve come to realise—no, admit—that there is nothing worth doing, seeing, being, without you.

I love it here, in the US, don’t get me wrong. I finally feel at home somewhere, where people can understand and accept me—all of me—for who I am, not who they want me to be. And the me I want to be is with you.

Come to me, Bel. You would marvel at this ridiculous and strange country. This modern miracle of a nation. It makes no sense when taken as a whole, but then you find the little pockets that get everything right. There is something here, a story, a string of stories, I can smell it. I want to explore it with you.

Come.

You don’t have to give up on Merry Olde England forever, just come visit. For a month, even. I won’t ask more. It will be enough. Perhaps after a month here with me you will see the light, or perhaps I’ll be ready to let it go and come home. But just get on a plane and fly here as soon as you can. Tomorrow.

Enough. I won’t beg.

But this place, Moneypenny, you should see it (and by ‘place’, I mostly mean the West Coast, certainly San Francisco). It’s got a strange logic and an eccentric energy. It would get you going. I feel more at ease, more loose and ready, than I have in, well, a long time. Since that first year of journalism school when everything was possible, nothing off limits. 

Remember that feeling? It was still the Forties. Rationing was just ending. And we were newly friends. The electricity of that time. Our instant connection. (Not instant liking, I will concede that, but a spark, you can’t deny it.) It fueled everything that year. We were invincible.

This country is invincible somehow, in a different, but fascinating way. So is everyone in it, by proxy. 

Come be invincible with me.

I miss you. 

Yours,

James

(Freddie Lyon’s Signature)


End file.
